


Wolf's Tale

by TaiOshiro



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Brooding, F/M, Original Character Mention - Freeform, Parenthood, Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaiOshiro/pseuds/TaiOshiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris reflects on the life he has had since he met Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf's Tale

I remember the day I met Hawke.

There are days I almost regret the deception; I know I had no other choice, and not once has she held it against me, but still, there are days where I wish I could have been more upfront.  She deserved no less.  All the same, she still decided to help, and I will always be grateful to her for that.

I look back on those days and I find myself bewildered at how I never noticed her beauty.  It was her strength that awed me first, her willingness to help.  She was a clever woman, as quick with her wit as she was with her sword, and she kept one just as sharp as the other.  No doubt Varric's presence helped; I remember how the two enjoyed going back and forth for hours just to see who could get the last bad joke in, or to see how long it took to drive the rest of us to drown ourselves in copious amounts of liquor just to drown it all out.  To be fair, the thought never crossed my mind--I found the exchanges entertaining, at the very least because hearing the mirth in her voice helped ease the troubles on my mind.  It was particularly helpful whenever I found myself plagued with thoughts of Danarius someday finding me, ripping away this fleeting happiness that I found myself clinging to daily just to survive.

The little things like that... they make all the difference.

We didn't always agree; we argued over magic and mages, we had differing opinions on how such things should be handled.  All the same, she had my respect.  She listened to me, she heard me out, that in itself meant the world to me.  She respected me enough to hear what I had to say; for a former slave, even that little bit of courtesy goes a long way.  I felt obligated to do the same in kind.  No... obligated isn't the right word.  I wanted to.  I wanted to listen, to give back as I had received.  It made the relationship feel whole.  We argued, we disagreed... but we never fought.

I still don't remember when I began to fall for her.  Head-over-heels, as they would say, I fell, and I fell hard.

I was afraid, I'll be the first to admit I was afraid.  I ran from her, but never once did she judge me.  She treated me as she always did, always with a smile on her face and laughter in her voice; it soothed the pain, but the guilt always crept in whenever I saw her hurting.  She tried to hide it, but I always knew.  I always knew and I did my best to be there for her.  Perhaps that was how I knew things were meant to be.  Even in my fear, my need to escape from it, I couldn't bring myself to leave.  It wasn't just about protecting myself--it was about protecting _her_.

I was willing to die for her.  I couldn't bear a life without her.  Even as the years passed, I could not let go of her, the memory of her.  I cannot even begin to explain how elated I was when she welcomed me back with open arms.  She forgave me, even though she claimed that there was nothing to forgive.  I had done no wrong in her eyes, even though I felt I had hurt her by leaving.

When we left Kirkwall, I stayed with her; I was a free man, I could have gone anywhere, but there was no place I wanted to be more than by her side.  Many times she tried to tell me to leave, fearful of what might become of me if the Exalted March finally came, but I refused.  I would not let her go again.  I would die for her if she had commanded it.  Nothing was more important to me than the woman I loved.

Leave it to Hawke to find a way to challenge even that.

Not even a year and a half after we left Kirkwall, things changed.  Hawke fell ill, suffering bouts of nausea and fatigue.  It persisted for months, and it worried me to no end.  Hawke always insisted she was fine, always laughing and smiling as she usually did; it took me some time to know what it all meant.  It wasn't until I finally saw the swell in her stomach and felt the movement within that I finally realized the gleeful secret she kept hidden from me, waiting for me to figure it all out.

My sons were born into the world, and suddenly I had more to be thankful for, more to live for, more to die for; though if I ever dared to admit that last part, Hawke--among others--would've throttled me for daring to throw away my life so easily.  She once even made me swear that I would live on, no matter what happened.  I agreed, at the very least so she would be happy.  I meant it wholeheartedly.  I had a family now.  Nothing could have made me happier.

I still remember when it all changed.

News of the explosion at the conclave traveled quickly; Hawke was worried, afraid even.  That was the first time I had seen her truly afraid.

No, not the first time.  The first time was long before, when we entered the Warden prison.

When we freed Corypheus.

I don't know how long I spent trying to reassure her, how many sleepless nights were spent comforting her as she was wracked with guilt over something that, even now, I fail to see as being any fault of hers.  She blamed herself, insisting that the whole ordeal was because of her; at first I assumed she meant the mage rebellion, but I know better now.  She spent too many nights tormented by nightmares about that Darkspawn abomination for it to be coincidence.  Were it not for our sons, there were times I feared she might go mad and flee in the dead of night.

Unfortunately, my fear was warranted; however, I was only half-right.

I awoke one morning to find her gone, with only a note to give a half-assed explanation that she had something she needed to do and that she promised she would return.  With the boys to look after, I had little choice but to wait for her, to hold her at her word.  She had never broken a promise before, she would most certainly have returned.  I held onto that belief.  It was all I had.

Hours turned to days.  Days turned to weeks.  I settled into a routine just to survive.  I was fortunate that my sons were weaned by that time, young though they were.  Hawke had trouble producing after the first few months, so we had to improvise.  They were finally able to eat more solid food by the time she left.  It made things easier without her, at least in the sense that they weren't dependent on her for nourishment.  Without her around, it was anything but easy.  But I pushed on.  I had no choice.

I still don't remember how long it had been when I finally received a letter.  I recognized the writing immediately--Hawke had more than a few of Varric's books, she had enjoyed using them to help teach me how to read, and I had seen his handwriting enough times when I happened upon him while he was working on his stories (or so I assumed, anyway).

What sent a chill down my spine was the fact that Varric had decided to forego his usual nickname in lieu of my actual name.

I don't know how long I stared at the letter.  Never before did I actually yearn for my former illiteracy just so I could have never understood the words laid out before me.

Hawke wasn't coming back.  Hawke wasn't keeping her promise.

I don't know what I should have felt.  Rage?  Sorrow?  Guilt?  I felt dead inside, I wanted to wake up and find that the past weeks had been a nightmare and that Hawke would be sleeping in my arms as she always did.  It wasn't until I heard my sons crying that reality came crashing down upon me like a broken wave.  Hawke wasn't coming back; but I was still needed.  The boys needed their father more than ever now that their mother was gone.  They were my reason to keep living.  Some part of me still wished I could have taken Hawke's place, that she would be here for them instead of me... but this was reality.  I couldn't run away from it, no matter how much it hurt.

I would live for their sakes; I owed them that much.  I owed _Hawke_ that much.

...

It was maybe half a year later that I met... _him_.

He was a scrawny thing, gaunt, a look in his eye that betrayed fear and distrust.  An Elf, not of the Dalish but from one of the Alienages.  From Kirkwall, as luck would have it.

I found him wandering the woods nearby the small cabin that we had more or less called home since the twins were born; he was scrounging for food, filthy and disheveled, wearing robes that were torn and barely fit while clutching a thick leatherbound book as though his life depended on it.  It didn't take a second glance to know he was a mage.  Distrust and loathing came quickly, but somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered the many debates I'd had with Hawke about mages.  I remember how appalled she had been to hear about the atrocities that had been committed in the Kirkwall circle.  And now, with a former member of that broken circle standing before me, I found myself feeling something other than distrust, than hate.

Pity.

To this day I still don't know what possessed me to invite him in.  He is still here, a member of the household more or less, though much cleaner and healthier than when I had found him.  We are alike in some ways, I have found.  We both bear new names and leave the old ones behind by choice, though I do not yet know if he would forego his old name entirely as I have.  We both spent time on the run, me from my former master, and him from the Templars that even now hunt down the rebel mages that escaped the circles.  We have also both known what it is like to have our lives controlled in every aspect at the whims of another; I was just lucky that I had Hawke to help me break free.  I'm hoping that, in some way, I can help him do the same.

No one should have to live with the fear of being hunted.

The pain of losing Hawke is still there; I do not know that it will ever fade.  But, if nothing else, I have a reason to keep living.  Hawke might not have been able to keep her promise to me... but I will forever honor the one I made to her.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is dedicated to all of my friends and associates that gave me a hard time about leaving Alistair in the Fade. I love you~


End file.
